


(cap)puccino, w/ milk and sugar

by Levans44



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Cute, Dessert & Sweets, F/M, Fluffy Ending, Kissing, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve Rogers Feels, Sweet, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27472243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levans44/pseuds/Levans44
Summary: Running a tiny bakery cafe offers little surprise to a creature of habit like her....that is, until Captain America asks her for a coffee recommendation.akathe Steve Rogers coffee shop AU no one asked for
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 51
Kudos: 191





	1. house blend, hot, no milk or sugar

One thing was for sure.

He was a creature of habit.

Always walking in around 6:30 am, never past 7. Reaching the register in three long strides before giving her a smile and a small greeting. Tight-fitting athletic shirt and grey sweats, light sheen of sweat on his brow as evidence of a workout. Light blue eyes peering up at the menu from underneath a black baseball cap. As if he won’t end up getting the same thing he’s been ordering for months. As if she won’t ask him the same question every time.

“The usual?” 

He’d nod with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced off to the side. Force of habit, she’d assumed. 

“Yeah,” That voice. Deep and rich, rumbling in his chest. A bit gruff as if he hadn’t spoken to anyone else since he’s woken up. 

A five dollar bill — she’d hand him back his change for him to drop it in the tip jar every time.

Never a ‘thanks’ always a “thank you” as he slides his wallet in his pocket and steps back from the register. Hands folded in front of him, he’d wait patiently as she starts extracting the shots of espresso. 

_ Medium-sized, house blend. Black, hot. No milk or sugar. _

He’d glance around the tiny cafe as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. Body swaying slightly to whatever song was new on her playlist, eyes lingering interestedly over the paintings on the wall in the back. She’s never told him that she’d painted some of them herself. But then again, he’d never asked.

Pen in hand, she’d spend some time thinking of what new phrase to write on his cup. That’s sort of become a staple for her shop now — writing small jokes, motivational quotes, or even poorly-drawn smily faces next to people’s names. 

Most people don’t bother to read their cups, but he’s not one of them.

After a few weeks of experimentation, she'd concluded that he had a particular inclination for her generic list of dad jokes — the worst of the worst (like seagulls and bay-gulls bad).

Every time she set his drink on the counter, she could sense him itching to see what she had written. But he’d always wait until he’d given her a polite “thank you” before turning around and eyeing the side of his cup, a small smile on his face as he made his way out.

He was a creature of habit.

But so was she. 

Wiping down the coffee machines for the umpteenth time this morning, she fiddled with the edges of her apron as the clock neared 6:30. Her head ducked involuntary as she saw those sweatpants round the corner, like usual. 

As he walked up to the register, she noticed something a little bit different about his walk this morning. His strides shorter, feet moving a bit hesitantly, as if he was preoccupied with some other thought. Perhaps nervous about something later today. 

She put a bright smile on her face as she readied the notebook and pen in her hand, even though they both knew what he was going to order.

So imagine her surprise when she asks him her usual question, expecting a nod, and he responds with something she’d never expected.

“Actually, I thought I’d try something new today.”

She halted, eyebrows raising involuntary as the pen froze in her hand. 

“Oh, well did you have anything specific in mind?”

“No, I uh…” there was that shy smile again, hand attached to the back of his neck. Soft pink bloomed across his cheeks. Probably an extra tough workout this morning.

“I was hoping you could help me out with that part”

“Oh.” A recommendation. She perked up, the coffee nerd in her running a million different varieties through her mind, trying to match his profile with one of them. She’d normally recommend a sweet latte — vanilla, hazelnut, cinnamon — or even a strong mocha, but Steve didn’t exactly look like the type with a sweet tooth. 

“I’m guessing you don’t like anything too sugary?”

“No,” He shook his head, still smiling shyly, somehow looking almost embarrassed with himself.

“Well, in that case I’d recommend something with a little less body.” 

His forehead creased in a tiny divot between his brows, before it disappeared just as quickly. He nodded enthusiastically, maybe a bit too much so.

“Sure, yeah that sounds good.” 

She couldn’t help but let out a small smile, peering down and pretending to scribble something down on her notepad. 

“Hmm, I have a feeling you might like the _**cap**_ puchino.” 

Eyes glued to a spot on the paper, she bit down hard on her bottom lip, watching his head snap up form the corner of her eye. His eyes doubled in size, something reminiscent of panic crossing his features. 

Fighting back another smile, she lifted her head, picture-perfect innocence on her face, like she _hadn’t_ just made a horrible pun using his superhero alias. Had he really thought that she didn’t know that it was _the_ Captain America walking into her cafe every morning? 

Anyone could spot those shoulders from a mile away. That stride. Everything about him screamed national hero and savior of the galaxy. Well, maybe except for whenever he was crammed inside her tiny cafe, hunched over the register and staring at her with those wide puppy-dog-eyes. 

After a few moments, his body relaxed. Having bought the naive look on her face, he nodded, pulling out his wallet.

“Yeah, I’ll have… one of that please.”

“Sure, that’ll be $4.10”

5 dollar bill — a soft clink as he dropped the change in. 

As the milk trickled into the pitcher, she wondered to herself why he hadn’t gone with his usual order. What about today made him want to try something different? 

She told herself that she _could_ always ask him, try and make long-overdue conversation. But as she peered up at him over the coffee machines, she noticed that his eyes were glued to his phone. 

She watched him type something in enthusiastically and smile at whatever lit up his device in response. What did someone like Captain America text about anyway? When he was going to meet up with Ironman for their next Earth-saving mission?

A warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, she’s never seen that kind of look on his face before — the pictures of him on the news always made him out to be so rigid.

Redirecting her focus to his coffee, she waited until the milk was raised to the perfect temperature before easing the steamer out of the pitcher. Tiny, white foam bubbles popped at the surface as she scooped them out with a spoon, laying it carefully over the espresso. Snapping a lid onto his cup, she reached for her pen, debating in her head what to write this time. 

_Justice is a dish best served cold. If it were served warm it would be justwater._

Absolutely atrocious, but somehow fitting given his not-so-hidden identity. 

A polite “thank you, have a nice day” before he made his way out, that endearing smile emerging on his face at her joke before he rounded the corner and disappeared. 

Incredulously enough, she realized that the 5-minute conversation they had today was the longest one yet. Him asking her for a recommendation? Brand new to her routine.

But the way she leaned on the countertop, chin in hand, wondering helplessly about a man whom she knew nothing about (other than his favorite coffee order)?

That. 

That was nothing new. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! Hope you hated my dad jokes as much as I did. I'm always open to feedback so feel free to comment :) I intend for this to be a ~5 part series, so the next part's coming soon! 
> 
> Stay safe and healthy y'all <3


	2. choc chip cookies and milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i highly recommend you listen to *if i should die tonight* by the legendary marvin gaye while reading!

The next time Captain America walked into her cafe, he ordered another cappuccino (so he _did_ like it!) and some _bagels_.

“How many would you like?”

“Uh…” His fingers twitched, as if he was counting how many he needed, before he asked her for “just a dozen.” 

She nodded as she rang him up. “Must be quite the party.” She joked as she bagged the homemade goodies. No harm in making small talk right? He was basically a regular now. 

“Yeah,” He nodded “It’s for my uh… coworkers.” He paused over the last word, failing to find a better replacement, and she could see why. Captain America. So his coworkers must mean the _Avengers_ , maybe other SHIELD agents. 

Before she could think too much about the fact that _Tony Stark_ might be eating her bagels this morning, she carried the hefty bags to the register, handing him his coffee and the receipt. 

“I mixed in a couple flavors and threw in some cream cheese for you too.” 

“Thank you,” he smiled.

Turns out, Steve didn’t like sugar in his coffee, but he _did_ have a soft spot for baked goods. _Her_ baked goods, to be precise.  He came in the next morning, practically bouncing on his feet, enthusing about how everyone had _loved_ her bagels. 

Upon a quick scan of the display shelf, he asked to try the lemon-thyme bar along with the usual cappuccino. The next day, she recommended the banana bread. The day after that, the blueberry muffin. 

Today, it was a classic chocolate chip cookie. He walked in around 4 pm, just around the time her babies were ready to pop out of the oven. That was the other thing, too. He started coming in more now, at unpredictable times, sometimes early noon, other times in the late afternoon. 

Not always in his usual workout clothes, either. Today, he walked up to the register in a brown biker jacket and some faded jeans. She liked that he was a bit old-school that way. There was a peculiar yet endearing formality in the way he carried himself, with a level of humility that she found hard to believe in someone so renowned as Captain America.

With the mouth-watering scent wafting through the air, she couldn’t help but insist that he take a seat and wait for the cookies to be ready. 

One bite of the warm, chocolaty delicious and he couldn’t help but hide a surprised smile. She set a glass of milk down in front of him, and couldn’t help the fuzzy feeling from crowding her stomach as he glanced up, smile widening.

“How’d you know this was my favorite?”

Like she said, old-fashioned. 

They sat in comfortable silence, tucked away at a booth in the far corner. She took small sips from her own mug, glancing over at him as his eyes lingered over her paintings, as usual. 

As the next song started playing on her playlist, she noticed his ears perk up, eyes lighting up with recognition.

“Fan of Marvin Gaye?”

He nodded, nostalgic smile on his face “Yeah, uh, Trouble Man. Friend recommended it to me a while back.” 

She nodded back in response, as they started to sway in time to the beat.

“I’ve never heard of this song before, though” Steve reached forward for a second cookie, and she smiled. 

“If I should die tonight.”

He looked up, eyebrow raised.

“That’s what it’s called. If I should die tonight.” She closed both hands around her mug, reveling in its warmth. 

A pause, before Steve remarked softly “It’s nice.”

She hummed in agreement. Lulled by the sweet soul of Marvin Gaye's voice, she couldn’t help but close her eyes. 

“You know, Marvin Gaye didn’t write this song. His producer did. About a crush he had on this woman.” The story always put a small smile on her face.

“And Marvin refused to sing it ‘cause he’d never felt that way about anyone… until he met his wife.”

A few moments of silence, only the music flowing gently from the overhead speakers. She glanced up to check Steve’s reaction, and realize that his eyes were fixated on a spot on the table, deep in thought. Then, he spoke, voice quiet, almost as if he was talking to himself.

“Do you believe in that? That some people are destined to be together?”

She glanced up, a little surprised at the question, before letting out a light laugh, looking back down at her cup, 

“Soulmates? Not really.” She pursed her lip, before continuing.

“… but, as clichéd as this sounds, I do think true love exists. You know, someone you just know you belong with.” 

She looked up the same time he did, and as soon as those blue eyes met hers, she knew _exactly_ what he was thinking. The same thought had appeared in her own mind. Neither of them spoke, but his eyes said everything she wanted to know.

As the song started to build up to the second verse, they were abruptly interrupted by the sound of the bell, and a customer stepped through the door.

He immediately got on his feet, almost hitting his head against the ceiling, before shoving his baseball cap lower over his brow. He started to reach for the wallet in his back pocket, voice low.

“Sorry I kept you for so long, what do I ow-”

“What? No, put that away!” She smiled, picking up the empty plate and the cup.

“I can’t as-“

“Seriously, it’s okay. These were on me.” 

“But-“ He looked like he was about to argue, but he glanced back at the expectant customer waiting at the register, and closed his mouth.

“Well, the cookies were amazing. Thank you.” He smiled, his sincere gaze warming up her cheeks.

“Anytime.”

As he made his way out, she rushed behind the counter to take the customer's order. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him round the corner and disappear, in the same way he always does.

As she started crafting the coffee order, she listened attentively to the last of the Marvin Gaye song, fading out in the background, trying _desperately_ to ignore the pounding heartbeat in her chest or that fuzzy feeling in her stomach, settling down for good.

_If I should die tonight, love_

_I just want you to keep this one thought in mind_

_That I would never die blue_

_…’Cause I've known you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there you have it friends thx so much for reading :) i basically have the rest of the plot figured out, but i just have to finish writing!! coming up next: we get a little introduction to some of steve's *work* friends.
> 
> as always, comments are appreciated <33


	3. triple shot cold brew, pump of caramel

The next time Steve visited her cafe, he wasn’t alone, which sort of threw a wrench in their established routine.

She watched nervously as he approached the glass door, accompanied by a man wearing dark shades and a woman with straight, shoulder-length red hair.  She gulped, hastily wiping her hands on her apron. Could it really be?

The three of them walked in in a rather amusing manner; the woman seemed to be trying to persuade Steve to do something, while the other guy strolled in first, peering around the shop curiously. He spotted the register and grinned widely, starting to slide the aviators off of his face. Steve, who was busy waving the woman off, stopped his friend, muttering “keep ‘em on, Tony.” 

As they walked closer, it finally sank in that the red-haired woman was indeed _the_ Black Widow, signature leather jacket and all. Judging by the facial hair, expensive-looking shades, and just the unmistakeable _swagger_ , Steve’s other friend was, _holy shit,_ Tony fucking Stark. Her head span a little — now, there was no longer _one_ , but _three_ Avengers inside her tiny cafe.

“Hi,” Steve offered her a rather apologetic smile, noticing the surprise on her face, which she was no doubt masking poorly.

“Hi! Uhm,” Think! “How can I help you guys today?”

It felt weird to even say that out loud. Her? _Helping_ the Avengers?

Instead of getting a response, however, she heard Ironman (Tony, whatever) repeat her name out loud to himself, eyes mulling over the nametag clipped to her apron. 

She perked up, eyes widening. “I… yep! That’s me.” She didn’t know how else to respond to that, especially with Tony sporting that rather odd grin, peering at her over the top of his glasses. Black Widow (Natasha was her ‘human’ name, she remembered), stood by with her arms crossed, sneaking clandestine glances between her and Steve (who looked absolutely _mortified_ ) with that same amused smirk on her face.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Just three coffees, please.” Steve muttered, pulling out his wallet.

“Sure, would you-“

“Now, _hold on_ , Steve.” Tony interrupted, raising a hand, and all three sets of eyes fell on him. 

“I want to see if she’s got any _recommendations_ for us.”

At that, Steve’s face turned redder than the red velvet cake she had iced that morning. 

“Tony…” Steve trailed off, obviously embarrassed. She could tell that this was something of an inside joke to the three of them — both Natasha and Tony seemed to be seconds away from bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Uhm, sure!” She responded, still eyeing them cautiously. Were the Avengers always this… eccentric?

“What kind of flavors do you guys prefer in your coffee? I could recommend something more bitter, fruitier, sweeter…” 

“Oh, I’m sure Steve here will take as much sugar as he can get.” Tony patted Steve on the shoulder, making the poor man blush three times harder. Natasha had to clear her throat and look away just to retain her poker face. 

“Ok, great, I’ll uh, make something for all three of you to try.” 

As she rang them up, she had to resist from smiling at the look Steve was giving her through all of the blushing (it read: ’I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me’). 

When she placed their drinks on the counter, Tony immediately grabbed his cup, licking his lips as he brought it up to his mouth.

“I gotta warn ya, I’m a bit of an expert when it comes to coffee.” He glanced at her over those shades while he took a sip of his drink — triple shot cold brew with a pump of caramel. For a busy guy like Tony Stark, it was the only drink that made sense. She got Natasha a hot dark roast, guessing it was no nonsense and straightforward like her.

She watched, trying to stifle a smile as Tony’s face stretched wide into a grin, eyebrows raised over the aviators.

“Damn, you were right Rogers. She _is_ good.”

It was _her_ turn to blush at that: had Steve talked to his superhero friends about _her_? What could he possibly have said?

Before things could get too awkward, a _very_ perceptive Natasha called out for Tony, steering him away from her and Steve.

Once Tony was (mostly) out of earshot, Steve leaned across the counter, biceps bulging through his tight grey shirt, as he gave her an apologetic smile.

“Again, I’m very sorry about… them.” They both eyed his friends standing in the doorway, pretending to be partaking in a serious conversation but very obviously eavesdropping. 

“It’s okay” she laughed. It was endearing, she thought, that even superheroes went out to get coffee together during lunch. 

That thought had been occupying her mind, though: at this point in their relationship, did he seriously still think that she didn’t know who he was?

“I know who you are, you know.” Screw it, he _had_ to know at this point, right? No guy is ever _that_ humble. It felt ridiculous to _not_ mention it.

“Oh?” 

She let out a small laugh, feeling weird for even saying it out loud. Like it was some sort of a naughty secret that needed be kept under wraps.

“You’re Capt-”

“Oh, that!” 

He exclaimed, glancing off to the side, hand reaching the back of his neck in that familiar manner. She pursed her lip at the way his shirt rode up over his jeans.

“Yeah, I… Guess the secret’s out.”

Much to her astonishment, he seemed _disappointed_ that she knew, his posture somehow more guarded than before. It couldn’t be easy, she thought, trusting people when you’re Captain America. Maybe he had liked living as just Steve in her cafe for a little while, as the human behind the showy superhero alias.

Other than the disappointment, he also seemed _nervous_ about her finding out. She almost scoffed at the thought; was he really worried that she’d no longer be interested in him because of his secret identity? She’d be damned if that wasn’t the most humble thing she’d ever heard of. Typical Steve.

Thing is, she’d only ever liked Steve for who he was with her — the version of him who’s always the _most_ enthusiastic when it comes to her desserts; the one who keeps her company whenever business is slow; the one who asked her if she believed in soulmates; the one who _never_ fails to send butterflies fluttering in her stomach with a single smile, a glance.

That endearingly awkward guy who shuffled into her tiny cafe on that random, opportune Monday and asked her for a recommendation. 

And with all of these fuzzy, happy memories in her mind, it was hard to find a reason to not do what she was about to do next.

“Anyway, I’m sorry again for my… friends, they can-“

“Give me your cup.”

He looked up at her in surprise, those blue eyes crinkling into a confused smile as he slid his cup across the counter.

_‘Steve :)_

_A cheese factory erupted in France._

_Da brie everywhere!’_

The cup read. Turning it around in her hand she brought her pen up to the surface, scribbling down 10 digits in shaky handwriting. 

“Here, um… don’t feel pressured to or anything but…” She muttered, sliding the cup back over.

Steve’s confused expression soon turning into a wide smile as he read the cup, those cheeks tinting pink again. The guarded tension in his shoulders notably dissipated, much to her relief.

“Thank you.” A pause.

“I... I will.” 

She nodded and ducked her head, failing to hide a blush of her own.

“Steve, we gotta head back.” Natasha suddenly called from across the cafe. They turned to notice Tony frowning at something on his phone, expression uncharacteristically rigid.

She watched Natasha give Steve a _look_ , one she couldn’t quite decipher but knew was about something serious, something _work-related_. Steve couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face, but as soon as he checked the message lighting up his phone, he immediately turning stoic, shoulders stiffening and jaw setting. He straightened up, an air of professionalism appearing around him in a matter of seconds.

“I’m sorry, we have to go.” 

“Of course.” She nodded understandingly. 

“…and thank you, again.” He lifted his cup in appreciation and gave her a smile, before joining the other two.

Natasha gave her a wave from the door as Tony yelled “I’ll be back next week, coffee girl!” Steve jostled them both out, giving her one last wave before all three of them rushed out of the cafe, turned the corner, and disappeared out of sight.

And that was the last time she saw Steve in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aand that's it! that cliffhanger tho haha... don't worry nothing bad's gonna happen to Steve (well nothing too bad ;))
> 
> in other news, Steve finally has our girl's number! whether he's gonna call her, we'll just have to wait and see... also, you can now probably guess who Steve was texting in the first chapter! 
> 
> thanks for reading, let me know your thoughts in the comments <3


	4. london fog, hot

Rain knocked on her shop window on a dull, cold Thursday as she sat behind the counter, chin in hand, listening to the tiny tv in the corner.

“… confirmed that Tony Stark, billionaire industrialist and former CEO of Stark Industries, has been spotted checking into the New York-Presbyterian Hospital just last night. Mr. Stark seemed to be on a temporary hiatus this past month, and this is his first public spotting since a Stark Tech press conference in October. While witnesses claim he was _not_ in critical condition, the exact source of his injury has remained undisclosed. Recent reports have linked his condition to the _Avengers initiative and related S.H.I.E.L.D activity_ , an organization currently under the leadership of Director Nicholas Fur-“

The tv powered off with a click as she let out a loud sigh, stretching her feet. 

Hearing the news about Tony felt strange. Somehow, that short meeting she had with him made her worry about him in a way she wouldn’t have before. This kind of thing was on the news all the time, public speculations about the most recent Avengers activity, but having met Tony it just felt more _real_. 

In more personal news, it had been over a _month_ since Steve came to visit. When he didn’t call or text within the first few days, she started to worry that maybe she had scared her off by giving him her number, or by telling him that she knew who he was. 

By the second week, she was beating herself over it — could she have pushed him away by being too impatient?

But by the third week, she was _angry._ Could he seriously not have given her a text, a call, just to tell her he wasn’t interested? She thought he was different, or maybe she had just _wanted_ him to be different. There was one brief thought that had passed her mind while watching the news about Tony — could his hiatus have something to do with Steve ghosting her?

Maybe they weren’t related at all.

Maybe it was just a bad coincidence.

_Maybe he just didn’t want to call._

Pushing the thoughts away from her mind, she glanced outside, clutching tighter to her cup of London Fog — earl grey tea and lavender foam, a touch of vanilla syrup.

It was coming down even harder, and dark clouds were starting rolling over the sky even though the clock read just past 7. She wrapped the cardigan around her waist tighter, standing up to close up shop early.

As she reached the door, she saw a tall figure with a hoodie pulled low, quickly rounding the corner. Before she could expect the worst, she caught a glimpse of the face, barely visible in the dark. 

“ _Steve_?” 

He seemed startled, lifting his head and coming to an abrupt stop in front of her. “Hi” his deep voice barely audible in the rain, she had to squint to confirm that it was him. 

“I… c-come in!” His clothes were soaked through, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He nodded in appreciation as she let him step in and closed the door behind him. 

“Do you.. want some coffee, or a blanket maybe?” 

Or a new change of clothes? He must be freezing, she thought. 

“No no, thank you I’m good. I just…” He sighed, voice rougher than usual, face still tucked under the hoodie. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here… in a while.”

Yeah, a month. 

“It’s just that I…” he glanced off to the side, hand rubbing the back of his neck — he was nervous.

But about what? Maybe he was here to let her down gently. Like ‘hey, sorry I ghosted you for a whole month after you gave me your number. I could have texted or called, but nope, I didn’t. Anyway, the answer’s no. Bye!’

“I’ve just been a bit… preoccupied these past few weeks. I should’ve called you but-“ Steve sighed, glancing up.

At that gesture, the dim cafe lights caught this face from underneath the hood, and she couldn’t help but let out a loud gasp at the sight.

His entire face was bruised black and blue — a huge, dark red gash on his cheek, a bruise and a small bump on the bridge of his nose like it’s been broken, and a split lip.

“Holy _shit_ , Steve, w-what happened?”

A momentary look of confusion replaced by realization.

“Oh this is just a…” Steve let out a small laugh to himself. She didn’t get the joke.

“…an occupational hazard” He made it out to sound more like a question, but it clicked for her nonetheless.

Tony Stark, the most public figure out of all of the Avengers, withdrawing from any and all public appearances for the last few weeks, for the same amount of time Steve stopped visiting. The rumors about new Avengers activity. Tony Stark’s ‘return’ last night. Everything made sense now, and she felt a huge sense of relief wash over her.

It _wasn’t_ a coincidence.

He _had_ meant to call back. 

“I…” she was still stunned, attention still mostly absorbed by how _messed up_ his face looked. ~~Still insanely handsome, though.~~

“I don’t mean to keep you for long. I know it’s late. I just wanted to apologize for not calling earlier and…” A deep breath as she held hers.

“I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tomorrow, with me.” 

At the absolutely nauseating yet _wonderful_ feeling in her gut, she was sure that her heart had dropped straight down to her stomach. 

After a few seconds had passed, during which she stood there gaping like a silent idiot, Steve nodded, dash of disappointment flashing across his face, and turned around to leave.

“Wait, Steve” she all but yelled, hand frantically landing on his forearm in an attempt to hold him back. He looked back at her, her hand retracting just as quickly as she’d extended it.

“Uhm…” she fidgeted under his gaze. She was _never_ good at this kid of stuff. Was she really going to do this?

“Have you… have you eaten yet?”

He shook his head out of the corner of her eye.

“I was just about to close. Did you want to get dinner… now?”

Steve smiled, about to nod his head, before his smile faltered. “I would love to, I _really_ would” he said, seeming the most exasperated she’s ever seen him. “It’s just that. I can’t really go out looking like…” he gestured to his face and the rest of his ensemble, dripping-wet hoodie and sweats, sneakers squeaking unpleasantly from the rain. 

At the frustration on his bruised face, she smiled. 

“Who said anything about going out?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading this quick little chapter, let me know what you think! next chapter (my personal fav) coming soon! <3


	5. tomato soup, garlic bread and merlot

“You sure I can’t help you with anything?” Steve called over for the 100th time. After his sudden arrival, she had thrusted a piping hot cup of chamomile in his hands, and made him sit in the corner booth, her favorite spot, the one where they had sat discussing Marvin Gaye munching on chocolate chip cookies.

Tomato soup, warm garlic bread, and two glasses of some cheap grocery-shop Merlot were on the menu tonight. She kept the soup in a small pantry in the backroom, made the bread herself (obviously), and the wine had been more for baking than drinking, but she figured it couldn’t hurt to break it out for an emergency like this (though she’d have to buy another replacement bottle for her killer red wine chocolate cake).

“Do you drink?” She called from behind the counter. Somehow, she’d always imagined Captain America to be abstinent from alcohol, ~~not that she had spent that much time thinking about him at all.~~

“Sure.” He called. She frowned at the vague response, but poured two generous glasses anyway, into two red-and-green Christmas mugs. Very classy.

“Sorry, I don’t have any wine glasses but…” she said, walking over to the booth and setting the cups down. “…what did you mean ‘sure’?”

“Oh well, alcohol doesn’t really… affect me?

“Huh” she frowned, before realizing.

“Oh, right you’re… _enhanced_.”

She laughed at the grimace on his face at the word, setting down some napkins and squaring the lines up — if this was gonna be their first date (is that what this was?), she was sure as hell gonna try her best to set the table nicely. 

“So, you can’t get drunk or anything?”

Steve shook his head.

“Jeez, tough way to live.” She remarked, sliding into a spot in the booth next to him.

“It’s not so bad” he smiled, moving to make room for her.

“You can take off the hood, you know. No one’s gonna see ya” She pointed to the door where she had turned the ‘open’ sign over. 

He did, rather sheepishly, bruised knuckles raising to pull his cover down. She could see his face in the full light now, and as her eyes trailed up, his hair caught her attention: still damp at the edges, flat where it’s been pressed down by the hoodie in the back. Definitely not the proper, trim, slicked-back Captain American look. But she decidedly liked this version of him more. 

He ducked his head, running a hand through his hair like he was embarrassed to be seen as he was. 

“Cheers” Smiling, she suddenly reached for her wine mug, the one that read _‘oh deer, Christmas is her_ e’ in red sparkly letters, and lifted it up in his direction

Steve frowned, smiling, and reaching for his own. “For what?” 

She stared at him, incredulous.

“Oh, I don’t know Steve, maybe for saving us all, yet again? At least that’s what I assumed you’ve been doing.” 

Steve smiled, his silence confirming her guess.

“But hey, if you’ve got another side job I don’t know about, that’s cool too.”

He chuckled, and it felt good to hear him laugh, watch his eyes crinkling up in that endearing way. 

“Thanks” Steve glanced down to a spot on the table before looking back up, raising his mug higher.

“And a toast to you too.”

“For what?”

“For this amazingly delicious garlic bread,” _Oh_ , if only he knew what he was doing to her. 

“… and for taking the first step, giving me your number.”

She grinned, but said nothing as she clinked her mug with his, something reminiscent of pride and pure adoration making her chest feel all fuzzy.

They dined in relative silence, clinks of silverware interspersed with brief moments of eye-contact and the occasional smile.

As her third cup of Merlot trickled into her mug, she could feel the warm effects of alcohol settle in her stomach, her cheeks tinted pink. Her body swayed involuntarily to the song flowing from the overhead speakers, _Yesterday_ by the Beatles. ‘Rainy Day Blues’ was the name of the playlist, she recalled. 

“Nice shiner” she quipped, breaking the silence, and pointed to the purple bruise blooming under his left eye, above the cut on his cheek. 

“Thanks” he mused, biting around some bread.

She bit her lip, taking another quiet sip of her wine. “How’s Tony doing?”

She saw his face darken for a brief moment before he swallowed, nodding. “He’s alright. Nothing too serious.”

“And are you… are you okay?”  
  
He looked up at the question, eyes conveying an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher. For a brief moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, he quickly broke eye-contact, returning his attention back to his bowl of soup. He nodded, clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, yeah. Nothin’ too bad.”

She bit her lip, scooting a bit closer. “Steve, I…” She didn’t know what to say — how could someone like her begin to fathom the troubles of someone like him? 

“Y-you can talk to me about it, if you’d like.” 

A few moments passed as she stayed silent, carefully surveying Steve’s reaction. To her surprise, she saw him start to smile, eyes still fixed on the table in front of him. 

“I thought about you the whole time. Coming back here-” he glanced up, gesturing around the cafe “-that’s kinda the only thing I’ve been thinking about since we got back.”

She remained silent, feeling her body go still, and focused on the way Steve’s shoulders rose and fell with each breath.

“I’m sorry I haven’t always been as… direct as I wanted to be.” He let out a bitter chuckle. “Guess I have a habit of waiting too long.”

She frowned, shaking her head. She wanted to pull him in, give him a hug, tell him he hadn’t ruined anything, tell him that they can take it as slow as he wants to. And maybe she would have done all of that, if his next words didn’t suck all the air from her lungs.

“But during these past few weeks I realized that I can’t _afford_ to wait. Not for…” he sucked in a breath.

“…Not with you.”

As the words left his mouth, she froze, breath halting in the back of her throat.

His blue eyes bore into hers, and she finally saw him. 

Steve had never been who she assumed he was. Not the revered hero parading around in a star-spangled outfit. Not the solemn leader commanding the universe’s saviors into victory. Not even the shy guy who visits her for coffees and cookies. 

No, _this_ was Steve. A man who spent his whole life bruised and hurting, not because he went out looking for fights, but because he just couldn’t walk away from ones that needed to be fought. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to put his life on the line for a stranger, but never gave into his own needs because the very thought of vulnerability, the thought of losing one more thing in his life, was terrifying. As a renewed sense of adoration washed over her like goosebumps, she felt any remaining doubt wilt away. 

She tried to vocalize those thoughts, let him know he didn’t have to suffer alone, but found that when she opened her mouth, no sound came out.

Registering her silent reaction, realization flashed across his face at what he had said. He shook his head, eyes closing shut, wincing in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, I-“

And before she knew it, she was leaning in to close the gap between their lips. She felt Steve tense, before his eyes fluttered shut against her cheeks, letting her lips press firmly against his. He tasted faintly of wine, smelled a little like the rain, and felt a lot like heaven.

She scooted closer, and as her lips shifted against his, the added pressure on his split lip made him wince.

She immediately pulled back. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay” He whispered, shaking his head hurriedly before he leaned back in, hand cupping the side of her face as he pulled her in even closer, right shoulder pressing against her left. 

She sighed into the kiss, resting her hand on the arm framing her profile. 

When she pulled back, she felt like she could melt all over again at the way he was looking at her. Like she had just gone up into space, fought off all the aliens standing in her way, and hung the moon. Just for him.

And as a new song started to pick up in the background, she couldn’t fight off the feeling that maybe, just maybe, they were meant to be, cliche be damned. 

The two of them stared at each other, wide-eyed and incredulous.

“Is this…?”

She nodded, letting out a loud laugh. Grabbed both of his hands, she dragging him out of the booth.

“Come on, this is our song!”

“Wai-“ Before Steve could register what was happening, she had him trapped in the small opening between the door and the register — their own little dance floor. 

Grinning up excitedly, she threw her arms around his neck, his hands resting on her waist. Before either of them knew it, they were slow-dancing across the floor of her cafe, swaying to the beat of _If I Should Die Tonight_.

Steve took a second to relax, and when he did he was surprisingly graceful for a 6-foot-something giant, leaning into the step with ease. 

He stared down at her with an amused smile, and she avoided his gaze by digging her head into the fabric of his hoodie, faint scent of cologne, and her eyes fluttered shut.

“I gotta have you know,” Steve started, voice rumbling deep in his chest. His hands were resting gently on her lower back, radiating warmth even through her thick cardigan.

“I’m a terrible dancer.”

She shrugged, smiling, her eyes still closed, thanking the Merlot for giving her the added courage.

“…and the fractured ankle isn’t helping a whole lot either.”

She gasped, eyes popping open as she pulled back abruptly, though his hands still remained on her waist. “You broke your ankle?”

He laughed, waving off the horrified look on her face. “It’s fine. It’ll heal in a couple of days.”

If it hurt to stand on it, he didn’t show any sign of it, only pulling her in tighter. She shook her head, resting her head back on his chest and mumbled into his shirt “you’re ridiculous.”

They stayed like that for a while, just swaying with each other, before she broke the silence with a quiet question. 

“How’d you get so hurt?” She would never admit it to herself, but seeing Steve like that made her the tiniest bit upset, no matter how routine this was for him. 

He sucked in a breath, tutting jokingly. “Don’t think I’m allowed to tell you that. Classified information.”

She smiled, quipping back “Oh yeah? Sure you didn’t just trip over a rock?”

He chuckled, pulling back slightly as she looked up. 

In the lines around his eyes she found an immeasurable amount of adoration, mixed with a hint of pained melancholy that she felt was a conversation for another time. 

As he leaned down to capture her lips once again in a tender gesture, she felt the frigid air melt around them, keeping the rain and cold at bay, and finally began to understand the lines of her new favorite song.

_How many eyes_   
_Have seen their dream?_   
_How many arms_   
_Have felt their dream?_   
_How many hearts, baby_   
_Have felt their world stand still?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gahh two updates back to back?! that's a first for me haha.
> 
> there are a lot of subtle references and nuances throughout this chapter some of which you hopefully got! this chapter was definitely the one that made my heart feel all mushy while writing. 
> 
> I really appreciate all your kind comments :)) <3


	6. stay

Out of all the pretty terrible ideas she’s had in her lifetime, this has _easily_ got to be in the top three.

“Wait, so _how_ do I roll out the dough again?”

She turned around, about to let out an annoyed sigh, but couldn’t stifle a laugh as her eyes landed on him. He stood behind the kitchen countertop, her hastily scribbled recipe in hand, completely clueless and covered in flour — white powder on his hands, cheeks, and all over the front of his pink polka-dot apron — _her_ apron, which Steve somehow decided was a good idea to try and stretch around his giant torso.

It was half past midnight, and she was _trying_ to bake ciabatta rolls for her cafe tomorrow, except Steve had insisted on helping instead of heeding her advice to ‘go _home_ , grandpa.’ 

Suppressing another giggle, she reached over to retrieve a slab of dough from the rolling board. “Okay, so you take this and you…” she trailed off, the hand holding her bench scraper slowing down as she noticed Steve’s steady gaze on her, expression unreadable.

It wasn’t until the split second he glanced off to the side, at the jar of flour set on the kitchen counter, that she realized his devious plan.

“No, _Steve_ don’t you _dare_! It took me _three hours_ to clean up after less ti-” 

Too late. 

A quick hand dipping into the powder, and before she could get a word in, it looked like it had snowed in her tiny apartment — flour on the stove, the island, scattered across the floor — it landed in her hair, over her eyelashes, _everywhere_. 

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Thing is, she _wanted_ to be annoyed at him, she really did. But how could anyone be mad at _that_ face? That boyish grin and those bright blue eyes, grinning at her with pure joy? Plus, she knew that these moments, the times he spent with her, were rare for Steve. And knowing that fact made what she was about to do all the more easier.

“Hey, Steve?” An enticing flutter of innocent, flour-covered eyelashes. 

“You got a lil somethin’ there.” She pointed to his cheek, shuffling just a tiny bit closer toward him.

“Here?”

“No, here.”

Hand digging into the jar for a scoop of flour  — sweet revenge.

As powder exploded all over Steve’s face, he spluttered, before charging right at her. She shrieked, feeling Steve’s hands snake around her waist, tickling her all over. 

The assault on her sides lasted for a few whole minutes, before she begged for him to stop through teary-eyed shouts. 

“You giving up?” He asked with a triumphant smirk, not even having broken a sweat through all the chasing and tackling. She, on the other hand, was struggling to catch her breath, chest rising dramatically with each inhale. 

“Never.” She puffed, trying to make a run for it through an opening under his arm. 

Her efforts proved futile, however, as he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, scooping her up and hosting her over his shoulder with ease. She couldn’t help but squeal, clawing at his back. 

“ _S-teve_! You can’t do that, that’s cheating!”

Quickly scanning for the nearest piece of furniture, she spotted her couch in the living room. Clawing onto the back as Steve walked past it, she latched onto the blue upholstery, clinging on with all the strength she could muster. She eventually ended up rolling onto it, head landing on the arm of the couch with a ‘thud’ while dragging Steve down with her. He hovered a few inches over her, supporting his weight with his forearm, as she tried to catch her breath.

“Cheater” she muttered, glaring up at him, lips all pouty.

Steve smiled, ducking down to give her a chaste kiss. 

Before he could pull back, however, she had snaked both hands around to the back of his neck, anchoring his lips her to his.

A loud ding interrupted the moment, indicating that the oven was done preheating. 

“Mmm wait,” he pulls back with a soft smack, glancing in the direction of the abandoned kitchen. “What about-”

“That can wait.”

And soon enough, she was back to chasing after the taste of his mouth with a zeal rather unfamiliar to the both of them. 

Sure, they’d ended up like this on the couch a handful of times before, but tonight, something felt different — something compelled her to pull him in closer, grasp him tighter by the hair on his neck, press her lips firmly against his. 

The butterflies going rampant in her stomach halted, however, when she felt his body tense, yanking her back to reality. 

Eyebrows furrowed, she pulled back, worried eyes darting across his features. And with each quiet breath that drifted across her lips, she became acutely aware of the vulnerable weight on her chest, the warm body pressed up against hers — heartbeat pounding frantically against her chest, and it wasn’t hers.

Her hands slipped off his neck as he whispered her name, gaze faltering. He wet his lips, the joyful smile on his face replaced with an expression she couldn’t quite make out. 

“I-I don’t…”

Steve was hesitant, and she understood why: the topic of intimacy had come up in casual moments prior, but never in such explicit light. He wanted to move slowly, take their time. She _knew_ that. Still, it took everything in her to hide her disappointment each time he pulled away after a date, and left her sitting all alone on the couch with barely a kiss goodnight.

A bitter smile ghosting on his lips as he started to push himself off the couch, away from her. 

“I-It’s late, I should go.”

“Wait, Steve.” A quick breath as she pulled him back down by his shirt collar, sinking deeper into the couch. 

A searing kiss before she pulled back just as quickly, nose pressing into his cheek. 

She felt those long eyelashes flutter shut against her skin, felt a shaky breath against her lips. 

“Stay. Please?”

His eyes opened tentatively as she pulled back, tracing her thumb around the tense outlines of his jaw. Then, a streak of fear flashing in those cerulean irises, and she understood.

Because _this_ time, things _were_ different, but not in the way she thought. No longer about those tired late-night gazes, the tipsy kisses against her neck, or the light fingers skimming the bottom of her oversized t-shirt — always curious, but never bold enough.

“Steve.”

_This_ time, she was going to coax something deeper out of him this time, something _real_.

A loud sigh and a drop in his shoulders, like he’s finally letting down a weight he’d been carrying for god knows how long.

“It’s not that I don’t… want to.”

“I know.” 

She responds as soon as those words leave his lips, reaching up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, his cheek, moving up to whisper closer to his ear. 

_I know._

_We don’t have to._

_I just want you to stay._

And that brief moment of terrorizing worry building up in her chest, the fear that he was going to leave her regardless, because it was just the way he was, just the way she liked — all blown away with the way he pressed his forehead against hers, letting out a small breath.

Eyes shut in blissful peace, he nods.

_Ok._

She can’t help but grin, hand reaching back up to caress the back of his neck. 

“Yeah?”

Another nod, a bit stronger this time, the blue in his eyes growing just a shade lighter.

_Yeah._

_Yeah, I’ll stay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s got a little bit of a different vibe than the other chapters, I think — hope you liked it! I really wanted to write something w/ a lil bit more gravity, especially about Steve in a sexual relationship and how intimacy would feel to him. And even though this is nowhere near perfect, I’m just gonna put it out there in hopes that some of y’all enjoy it! 
> 
> ALSO, did y’all know that they almost had Sharon and Steve *almost* live together as an official couple in infinity war? Crazy. And as much as I have strong opinions about that pairing, seeing Steve actually get a love life in an mcu film might’ve been nice. Domestic boyfriend Steve is my favorite Steve haha.
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be the last one, but oh well I couldn’t help but delay the epilogue until next time. Update coming soon!
> 
> Love y’all <3 
> 
> Stay safe.


	7. (cap)puccino, w/ milk and sugar

_ Loud drumming against the counter. Nervous tips of her fingers bouncing against the marble as she bites her lip, eyebrows creased, gaze tracking his every tantalizing movement. _

_ “So, do you like it?” _

They were in her coffee shop behind the counter, 2 pm on a random Saturday. It was the rare occasion that Steve had decided to take the afternoon off from work, planning to visit her at the cafe. She spent all morning giddy in excitement, coming up with the perfect new drink with only one thing in mind.

“Ya know, I _might_ just name this one after you.” She says, placing her finishing touches on her cup. Pretends like she didn’t make this drink exclusively _for him_. Soft and sweet upon first contact with the tongue, but much deeper, earthy notes hiding behind that layer of light, milky foam. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm” she nods giddily, before placing a playful finger on her chin. 

“What to call it… hmm, how about the ‘ _Captain America special_ ’?”

She laughs at the immediate frown on his face before continuing.

“The American Hero? Ooh, I know! _The Mighty Patriot_!"

He winces, “ _no,_ to _all_ of that.”

“Ok...” she nods slowly and takes a step forward, corner of her mouth still raised in amusement. 

“How bout a tall…” the fronts of her shoes bump against his, as her fingers make their way up the buttons of his blue shirt, teasingly slow.

“muscular…” 

She raises herself on her tiptoes, nose almost brushing against his as she leans in close.

“…handsome blonde?”

He lets out a soft laugh, eyes diverting. Still a bit shy, but she’s come to adore that about him now.

“I could get behind that.” 

She bites her lip, before leaning in for a quick kiss. With a warm hand squeezing around her waist, he doesn’t let her go. He pulls her in closer, thumb tracing small circles on her hip. 

Then, a loud noise sounds from outside the shop, maybe a pedestrian or a car, and they pull back abruptly. It’s been about six months since they’ve started dating in secret, but you can’t ever be too careful about PDA when you’re with Captain America. 

Before they get too discouraged about the ruined moment, she quickly reaches behind him for the finished coffee on the counter, thrusting it into his hands. 

She licks her lips nervously, watching him stare down expectedly into the cup, and is reminded of the first time they met — that single Monday he walked in and tried her cappuccino.

“I painted those, ya know.”

His hand halts, as he looks up at her with a raised eyebrow.

“The paintings in the back?” She nudges her head in the direction of the corner both: their special spot.

“Back when you used to come in for coffee you always used to look at them and… well, I’ve always wanted to tell you that they’re mine.”

A bright smile lightens his eyes as his gaze shifts over to the back wall, adorned with new paintings she had framed just a few weeks ago. He speaks a few seconds later, voice quiet and laced with warmth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘Cause you never asked.” She quips. 

With an unreadable smile on his lips, he doesn’t respond, and instead raises the cup to his lips, maintaining eye contact as he takes a sip.

She holds her breath, feeling her stomach do small somersaults as she watches him swallow and lick his lips.

“ _Well_ , what do ya think?”

A pause for dramatic effect because she brings out the absolute _worst_ in Captain America, before he grins ear to ear, nodding enthusiastically.

“That’s amazing.”

A quiet sigh of relief she’s determined for him not to hear. 

“Really? You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“No, you know I never lie!” He chuckles, taking another sip. “This is _very_ good.”

And just for the sake of evoking old nostalgia, just because she wants to catch him off guard and watch those cheeks tint pink, just because she _can_ , she raises a question tickling the tip of her tongue.

“So you like it better than the _cap_ puccino?"

She already knows his answer, but lets him pull her in close anyway. Closes the gap between their lips to feel just how wide his smile is. Hands curled around the back of his neck, as she savors the sweet taste of coffee on his tongue.

“ _Never_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand that's it! 
> 
> thank you SO much for sticking around. I originally intended for this series to be a one-shot, but all the support I got from you guys turned it into something more much more special. Feel free to drop a comment, and I'll see y'all around :)
> 
> -Levans44


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